The Great Mouse Reporter
by Masked Bard
Summary: After the events in "Olivia Goes West", Nellie Brie has moved to London to live with Basil. However, Nellie finds the transition difficult, being unable to find a newspaper that will hire her, while Basil feels his career has hit a dead end. Meanwhile, a new menace stirs in America, and even with Ratigan gone, the couple will find that they have more than enough enemies...
1. Chapter 1

It was another cold, rainy day in London. As Sherlock Holmes readied himself for another case at his residence on 221 Baker Street, below the floorboards his mouse counterpart, Basil of Baker Street, perused the newspapers in search of a case of his own. His partner, Dr. David Q. Dawson, was over for his daily spot of tea, when Basil's newest addition to his household unlocked the front door and entered; reporter Nellie Brie, fresh off the boat from America and still doing her best to adjust to life in England. She had just been out for a while to get some fresh air and run an errand, opening the door and shaking her umbrella off before placing it in a basket beside the door. She carried a long rectangular package under her arm.

"Ah, welcome back Ms. Brie," Dawson greeted her, "I trust all went well?"

"It did, yes," she said, removing her coat and hanging it up on a coat rack, "I'm not used to all this rain though. I guess that's London for you, hm?"

Nellie walked into the living room, past Basil, who had yet to look up from his newspaper. She grinned at him; this was typical. She knew he loved her, but, he was a workaholic first and foremost. Nellie then ripped open the package, while staring up at the picture Basil kept over his fireplace.

"Honestly, must we have a big portrait of that despicable sewer rat staring down at us in our living room all the time?" Nellie asked, gazing up at Basil's mantelpiece above the fireplace where Ratigan's portrait sat grinning, with a new picture in her hands; a sketch her former assistant Vartan Mookian had done of himself, Basil and Nellie, which she'd just picked up from a framing shop.

Basil lowered his newspaper and gave Nellie an annoyed glare, "I like it there."

"The rat tried to kill us both, along with Fievel and Olivia, and you still want to keep his portrait up here?" Nellie persisted.

"That has nothing to do with it, Nellie," Basil explained, "I keep that picture there, along with the bell, so that I can look up at that mantelpiece whenever I wish, and be filled with pride because I overcame that madman."

Nellie sighed, "Could we at least move it to another room? I wasn't asking you to get rid of it. Please? This drawing really means a lot to me..."

Dawson had learned not to get involved in their bickering since she arrived only two months ago, but in this case he thought she had a point. Dawson found her to be a charming young woman as soon as he laid eyes on her, she was one of the only individuals he'd met who could actually match wits with Basil. They seemed the perfect match, but that didn't mean they never had their share of arguments. Basil was, after all, a rather difficult mouse to live with. Nellie, for her part, had her own particular needs as well. It was precisely because their personalities were so similar that conflicts sometimes arose. Nellie had her typewriter on a coffee table, and often sat in front of the fireplace with the two men, clacking away on the keys for hours upon hours on end, working on a memoir based on her adventures with Basil that she hoped might impress some newspaper editors in London. It was a sound Basil had become accustomed to, and she could not be bothered by anyone when on these writing binges.

"Now Basil, try to be reasonable," Dawson interjected, perhaps against his better judgment, "By the looks of things she's asked very little when it comes to interior decoration around here. Not to mention, that portrait of Ratigan always did send chills down my spine."

Basil's gaze turned from his trusted friend to his beloved Nellie, who looked to him, biting her lower lip with pleading eyes.

"Oh…alright," Basil relented, "I'll have the portrait moved to my study then. After all, this is your home too now."

Nellie smiled, "It's not like I'm asking you to paint the walls pink, I just want to make it a little less drab in here. I think you'll come to like this change."

"You're probably correct," Basil agreed, turning his attention back to the newspaper, "One must make concessions when living with another, as I'm afraid I'm quite unaccustomed to doing."

Nellie removed the portrait of Ratigan and placed it on the ground, before hanging the sketch up in it's place, straightening it on the wall and then stepping back to look at it with her hands on her hips. The picture showed Basil and Nellie sitting cozy on a sofa, the one from the room Nellie had rented from Miss Kitty in Green River, with Vartan leaning on the back of the sofa from behind.

"I wonder how that boy is faring out in the American west," Nellie said.

"I'm sure the chap is fine," said Basil, having a bite of a cheese crumpet, "It was nice of him to mail you those sketches for your memoir wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Nellie's eyes drifted back to her typewriter, and she sat back down in front of it, "You know I thought the _London Gazette _would have gotten back to me by now. Here I am, the only reporter with the scoop on your final battle with Ratigan, and they're hesitating to hire me? What gives?"

"They'll be kicking themselves when _The Illustrated London Mouse_ signs you on instead then, trust me," Basil said, referring to the very paper he was reading.

"They couldn't possibly doubt the story's veracity," Nellie went on, "I mean, you sent them a letter of recommendation right?"

"I did indeed," Basil said, "Maybe we should go see the editor in person next time. Perhaps then my word would carry enough weight for them."

"Now there's an idea," Nellie said with a sarcastic chuckle, as she fitted a sheet of paper into the typewriter, "I mean I hate to seem like I'm riding on your coat tails, but if that's what it's going to take to finally get employed in this town then I don't know what else to do."

Dawson pitied Nellie Brie, she was a woman with such passion for her profession, and yet, at least he suspected, her gender meant she had a more difficult time being taken seriously by the newspaper publishers. It didn't even seem to matter that she'd built herself such a strong reputation in the United States. It had come to the point where, before the story became too old, she'd resorted to writing a book about Basil's final battle with Ratigan rather than trying to sell it as an article. As far as Dawson understood, as he hadn't been allowed to read the final manuscript yet, she expanded it by narrating the testimonies of other eyewitnesses in the third person like a novel, as well as including the story of how Basil and Nellie first met in 1886 during his secret trip to America. The first part was to be called _Basil's American Tail, _the second was to be _Olivia Goes West_.

"Anyway, once I get this book published and it sells like hotcakes, they won't be able to ignore me anymore," Nellie said with a tinge of bitterness as she began to type.

Basil lowered his newspaper and watched as Nellie typed, with an expression of determination on her face. He'd become very good at reading her.

"There's no shame in letting me help you, Nellie," Basil remarked, "No one is going to judge you for that."

"I'll judge myself, and that's enough. I appreciate all you've done for me, Basil. Honestly without you I'd probably be on the streets. But I suppose I've always had this deep-seated need to be independent. I'm never going to be the common housewife type, even if we are financially comfortable without my having to work. But…I guess I need your help getting my foot in the door."

She admitted this last part only begrudgingly, continuing to type.

"You'll have my full support," Basil said, "You know I understand your drive. I could easily have lived off my parent's inheritance and done bugger all with my life afterwards, but I had a need to make the world better."

He dismissively tossed the newspaper aside, finding no potential cases inside. After having nabbed some burglars a week ago, work had dried up.

"That's why I love you, dear," Nellie said as she typed.

"I love you too," Basil replied, getting up from his seat, beginning to pace as he often did when out of things to occupy his racing mind, "Still, I feel I'm right in the same place I was before our final clash with Ratigan. Nothing excites me like it used to. No master criminals to match wits with. It's as if, well…as if my life's climax has already come to pass."

"Oh Basil, something will always come along," Nellie comforted him.

"It certainly did last time you felt this way," Dawson added.

"I doubt I'll be so lucky again," Basil said, sitting back down and grabbing his violin, "I must confess though, now that Nellie's here and Ratigan's done for, the prospect of retiring from detective work has been crossing my mind."

Nellie stopped typing and stared at Basil, as did Dawson.

"You can't really mean that," Nellie said.

"I could become a professor at Oxford, in practically any subject I wanted," Basil continued, playing a sorrowful melody on the violin that Bernard Mousekewitz had given him, "With you here now Nellie, this may well be the best time to retire. You remember why we waited four years to even live in the same country together."

"Because you didn't want me to become a target of Ratigan's schemes," Nellie answered, "But Basil, detective work is what you do best. Why I couldn't imagine giving up journalism. What if England should need you again?"

"England will get on just fine, I can assure you," Basil said, "I could be brightening the minds of the next generation, perhaps even mentoring England's next great mouse detective."

Nellie frowned, "How old are you again Basil? Thirty-six is it? You may be ten years my senior but it's still a little early to start thinking about educating a replacement. You're still in your prime."

Basil let out a sigh and continued playing, "I don't know, I feel like my sterling career as a detective ought to end on a high note. Besides, as I've already mentioned, should I become a teacher our lives would be much safer."

Nellie was still unconvinced, "I don't want to be what stops you from continuing your life's work. I refuse to be held responsible for that. You know very well that I'm capable of handling myself, so quitting your profession just to protect me is no excuse. Neither is boredom for that matter. You're just going to have to lower your lofty standards, Basil of Baker Street, because for every high profile crime of the century there are thousands of smaller crimes that require justice, ones that the police are ill-equipped to handle on their own. I know that you know this. Remember why you became a detective. There are mice out there who need you."

Basil stopped playing, and stared at the ceiling for a few long moments, as Nellie and Dawson watched him. He then suddenly got up out of his chair, and walked over to the coat hanger, taking his Inverness cape and deerstalker cap off of it and putting them on.

"Going somewhere, Basil?" Dawson asked.

"To the police station, Dawson, to inquire about any unsolved cases." Basil replied, "Should there be any of note, I'll return for the both of you."

Nellie smiled, "I'll be here, dear."

With that, Basil was out the door.

"You certainly have a way with words Ms. Brie," Dawson remarked, "I've rarely if ever been able to illicit such a drastic change of mind in Basil with one of my motivational speeches."

"Just got to know what makes him tick," Nellie said, getting back to her writing, "I meant it though, I'm not going to get between him and his job. I shouldn't be any more of a liability than you are."

"Quite, quite," Dawson replied, "It's my understanding that you've a few solved mysteries under your belt as it is. You should be a welcome addition to our team."

It was then that Ms. Judson came into the room.

"Basil? Oh now where did he wander off to this time?"

"The police station," Nellie answered.

She scoffed, "That man. You never know where he'll be or what mood he'll be in from one minute to the next. I was just going to tell him he's received some mail. Among other things, one of those delightful letters from Olivia and her friend in America."

"Ooh, I've been expecting another from them," Nellie said happily, "I wonder if Basil would be mad if I read it before he got back."

"I'd say go ahead, who knows when he'll be back. It's also addressed to you."

"Suppose I have a right to it then," Nellie said, as Mrs. Judson handed her the envelope.

"I do miss that dear girl," said Dawson, "I wonder if I should have come along to America with Basil. But it seems you did alright without me."

"I'd have liked that," said Nellie, carefully opening the letter and curling up in her chair to read it.

**_Dear Basil and Nellie,_**

**_Hello again, how are you? Fievel and I miss you a great deal here in Green River. Things have been just grand though since you left. Me daddy's getting on just fine with Fievel's family, and every Friday night we all have dinner together. Fievel's Papa and me daddy were talking about making a toy together that plays a violin all on it's own to show off at the State Fair at the beginning of October. I hope people buy it, it sounds absolutely wonderful. Um, here Fievel wants to write the next half._**

Nellie noticed a different handwriting as Fievel took over.

**Hi Nellie, hi Basil. Anyway, Olivia and I have been having a blast together. Even though Tiger's busy a lot now because he's the sheriff I can still play with Olivia. We patrol the streets of Green River and solve mysteries or make sure there's no evil-doers in town. But it's been pretty safe. Guess what though. Olivia already told you our papas are gonna make a toy together and bring it to the fair? Well my sister Tanya is gonna sing at the fair too, her teacher Mr. Ironside is taking her with the school band. She's excited and nervous. But maybe it'll be her big break. I dunno. My Papa made me take violin lessons at school, so I will be playing when she sings. I'm not very good at it though. Well um, Olivia wants to write the ending.**

**_Goodbye, Nellie and Basil. We can't wait to see you again, and we love you like family. Hope everything goes good in England, and that Nellie finds a job. Say hello to Mr. Dawson for me, I miss him too. Talk to you soon!_**

**_Love,_**

**_Fievel and Olivia_**

Nellie giggled, "They're adorable even in writing."

"Anything of interest?" Dawson asked.

"Just everyday stuff I guess," Nellie said, "You're welcome to read it. Olivia said to say hi to you."

Dawson smiled, "Bless her heart. I'll have a look."

Nellie handed him the paper, and turned her attention back to her typewriter. Only a few more chapters until she had a finished draft of her memoir.


	2. Chapter 2

The offices of _The Illustrated London Mouse_ were bustling, filled with workers trying to make the deadline. The environment made Nellie feel nostalgic for times past; it'd been far too long since she'd been in the newspaper business. It felt like ages. This time, she had Basil at her side as they headed for the editor's office for an interview. It was early morning; but Basil had been strangely silent about his trip to the police office the day before. He'd been contemplating, keeping to himself.

"Thanks again for coming with me, Basil," Nellie said, the manuscript for an article on their final fight against Ratigan tucked under her arm. The same one _The London Gazette_ had for some reason rejected. It was autumn now and the events had taken place the previous summer, meaning this was probably her last chance to get it published in a newspaper. Otherwise, there was always her memoir, which she planned on finishing and publishing regardless.

"Keep a stiff upper lip, don't let them see you nervous," Basil advised, "And do smile."

Basil opened the door to the office for her. The editor, Cecil Cheddarston, was busy being read a telegraph to by his secretary. He was a regal, bespectacled gentleman with a full mustache and a bowler hat.

"Ah, yes my 8:30 appointment. Ms. Nellie Brie was it?"

"Yes sir," she said with a respectful curtsy, "The reporter from America you wished to speak with."

"And you've brought Sir Basil of Baker Street with you," Cheddarston said, adjusting the glasses on his long snout, "Splendid, please be seated."

The two of them sat before his desk. Nellie had butterflies in her stomach, but she tried to stay calm.

"I have here a writing sample should you wish to see it, along with a resume," Nellie said, placing a small stack of papers on his desk.

"I understand you have a rather unique story," the editor remarked as he looked over her resume, and the article, "Ratigan survived his fall from Big Ben and resurfaced in the American West?"

Basil cleared his throat, "It may sound unbelievable, but I've come to verify the story. We've numerous eyewitness testimonies and other evidence that this did indeed take place."

"Far be it for me to doubt the word of one knighted by the Queen," Cheddarston replied, "I am sure the article speaks for itself as well, as should Ms. Brie."

Nellie's posture straightened, and she put on a painfully artificial smile to mask her nervousness, "Yes well, the proof is all in the article. The incident was widely reported on in America, but scarcely mentioned as anything more than a rumor in Britain. Perhaps your newspaper might want to be the first to run a full report on the incident."

"I will decide on that in due time, Ms. Brie," Cheddarston said, putting the article down, "I understand that there is some controversy surrounding the events given that no body was recovered from the explosion, and that many of the American news articles imply it may have been an imposter posing as Ratigan, …"

"Another reason I've chosen to accompany Ms. Brie here," Basil interjected, "I can most certainly vouch for the fact that it was indeed Professor Padraic Ratigan who tried to make himself mayor of Green River, Utah."

"And none of those American articles were written by a reporter who was there," Nellie added.

"Quite right," Cheddarston admitted, "I do hope the article leaves little doubt then on what really transpired. Lets move on then to the subject of your already rather illustrious career as a journalist, Ms. Brie."

"Included on my resume is a list of my more famous articles," Nellie said, "At the Daily Nibbler in New York I was in charge of the advice column for a number of years but only in between my bigger articles. You see my specialty is undercover reporting, and exposing corruption."

"Your exploits are quite famous," Cheddarston remarked, "However there is the slight matter of the end of your time at the Daily Nibbler…it says here your reason for leaving was being fired?"

Nellie's eyes nervously darted away, "Y-yes, I suppose you'd like an explanation…you see the Ratigan case took a lot longer than expected, and my editor Mr. Daley became rather impatient, I had to wait for Basil to receive my letters in London and then travel all the way to America , which took several weeks."

"I take it this was most unusual?"

"My undercover reports may take a lot of time sometimes," Nellie confessed, "But when they went to print there was not a mouse in New York that didn't buy a copy. My advice column was a means of keeping my name in the paper between the really big articles. People would buy the paper just to read what I had to say. The Daily Nibbler outsold every other paper in the state thanks to me."

Mr. Cheddarston didn't look convinced, "And yet knowing this, your editor fired you anyway?"

Nellie looked down, unsure of how to defend herself. Basil looked on with worry.

"There was more to it than that, Mr. Cheddarston. Mr. Daley's reasons for firing me were also…a bit personal."

"Personal, you say?"

"Yes. Personal. I'd rather not elaborate on it. But, I can promise that history isn't going to repeat itself. Signing me onto your paper would be a boon to your sales, I can assure you."

"Very well, Ms. Brie. I can see that you found much success in New York, and built yourself quite the reputation. Your resume speaks for itself. You may very well have been responsible for the success of the Daily Nibbler. However…"

Nellie cringed inside at the 'however'.

"…the common mouse in London will have scarcely heard of you. It is difficult for reporters of the female persuasion to get taken seriously, as I'm certain you are well aware. You would need to start all the way from the beginning to rebuild your credibility; your success in America can't follow you here."

"Y-yes sir, I understand…but if I'm given the chance, I know I can replicate that success."

"Also, I'm not certain about what 'personal' matter prompted you to be fired from your last job, but I hope you're well aware that I will need to contact your previous employer for his recommendations. We may or may not base our decision on whether or not to hire you on his word."

Nellie' eyes widened, "You…you have to…contact him for a recommendation?"

"It's standard practice. I'm sure _The London Gazette_ does this as well. You should know by the end of next week whether or not we will hire you. Now, unless there is anything else to add, I would say this interview is adjourned."

"V-very well, Mr. Cheddarston, good day," Nellie said, her body shaking slightly as she got up from her chair. Basil took her arm and helped her up, and the two of them left the office.

Nellie felt as if her heart would break. No wonder _The London Gazette_ didn't hire her. Reed Daley wouldn't have a single nice thing to say about her. He'd say such terrible things that it wouldn't matter that she had the scoop of the century just waiting to be published. Nellie hadn't guessed his firing her would leave such a black mark on her record, or that it would follow her to England.

"I'm quite sorry I couldn't have been of more help to you…" Basil said uneasily as he walked her out of the building, not certain how best to comfort her, "I really thought just my being there would be enough to impress him."

"You did all you could," Nellie answered, blinking back tears.

Basil unfolded his umbrella as they emerged into the rainy, wet streets of London.

"Now now, it won't do you any good to carry on like that Nellie," Basil said, seeing that Nellie was on the brink of crying and offering her his handkerchief, "You don't know yet whether you've been hired or not. Maybe they will hire you. At least save the tears until you know for certain."

"I know I should, but I can't help it," Nellie said, wiping her eyes on the handkerchief and trying to contain herself, "I thought putting an ocean between myself and Reed would be enough…"

"And he's still haunting you," Basil sighed, "I'm not much of a fighter, but I would like to knock him senseless for what he's putting you through, my dear."

"I feel like I'm marked for life now. No matter where I go…Reed will sabotage my career."

"There must be some way to land a talented reporter such as yourself a job in England. Maybe we'll just have to look outside of London. We've only tried the newspapers that are already prosperous. Perhaps there's a smaller newspaper looking for some way to get an edge on the competition. They'd jump at the chance to hire someone like you."

Nellie stared at the pavement as the raindrops pattered against it, wiping her eyes once more, grateful to be shielded from the downpour by Basil.

"You really are good to me, Basil," she said after a silence, "I know I can't give up. I have to keep going. Reporting is my life…"

Basil kept an arm around her waist, holding his umbrella with the other.

"Let's try and cheer you up for the time being. What say you to lunch at a restaurant? My treat, of course."

Nellie shook her head, "I've lost my appetite. I really just want to go home. I just need some time to figure things out."  
"Understood," Basil said, hoping to be as accommodating as possible.

The two of them headed back toward Baker Street without much word to one another, Nellie silently contemplating what her next move would be if she didn't get the job. Like Basil had said, London wasn't the only city in England, there were still plenty of opportunities out there. Maybe she'd be just what a small newspaper needed to stand out. And if he published her memoir, and it sold well, she'd stand a much greater chance of being offered a job. Not even Reed could stand in her way.

Ms. Judson opened the door for them as they arrived at Basil's home, dismayed to hear how the interview went once they explained what happened.

"How dreadful for you, my poor dear," she said, taking Nellie' coat from her and hanging it up, "Let me fix you some crumpets. And don't despair too soon, they could still hire you, you know."

"Yes, I know," Nellie said, "I'll be in our room, Basil. I just need some solitude right now…"

"Of course, Nellie," Basil said, giving her a small kiss.

She gave a half-hearted smile, going over to the coffee table and picking her typewriter up, taking it back to their bedroom. Nellie always found comfort in being alone, and writing.

Basil took a seat by the fireplace, picking up his violin.

"And how are you holding up?" Mrs. Judson asked him.

"Not much better I'm afraid," Basil said, "Try as I might I don't know how to comfort her. Of course, I still know very little about women as it is, I'm hardly the one to try."

"Your efforts haven't gone unnoticed, trust me," Mrs. Judson said, "She'll show you how grateful she is once she's cheered herself up. Just leave her be for a while."

"Yes well, I'm confident she'll bounce back from this set-back. They really ought to outlaw contacting previous employers. I'm surprised they'd do that when the previous employer is overseas."

"Hm, well in the meantime, any cases you can busy your mind with?" Ms. Judson asked.

"Actually, when I went to the police station yesterday I learned that two of Ratigan's former followers escaped jail over the past two weeks, despite being incarcerated in separate prisons," Basil said, "I find it interesting…there must be some sort of connection. No one seems to have been able to figure out how they got away-"

There was a knock at the door at that moment, which made Mr. Judson jump.

"Goodness me," she said, wiping her forehead, "All this talk of Ratigan's minions escaping has me high strung already. Let me answer that."

Basil nodded, and began playing his violin. It was probably Dawson, he figured. He would need to fill Dawson in on the case too. He thought he might want to bring Nellie along for the investigation. She was almost as good as he was at picking up clues, and she could even write an article on it. It might not hurt, now that the story on Ratigan's death was getting older and older.

"There's a young girl to see you, Basil," Mrs. Judson called.

Basil's ear perked up. Well, that was unexpected.

"Send her in," Basil said.

"Right this way dearie," he heard Mrs. Judson say.

Mrs. Judson entered the living room followed by a young teenage girl. Basil recognized at once that there was something unusual about her. She wore a long Victorian dress that was wet from the rain, but her physical appearance betrayed the European look she was trying to pull off. Her fur had a reddish tint, her jet black hair was styled in ponytails, and she had deep green eyes. Around her neck she wore a turquoise bead necklace. It looked to Basil as if it were Native American in origin.

"Have I seen you before, dear girl?" Basil asked, examining her.

"Basil of Baker Street," she began, "I am Cholena, from the Lenape tribe. We met once, years ago. And…and I fear that your friends and I may be in grave danger…"

Basil stared in disbelief, memories flooding back of his and Nellie' brief encounter with the Lenape.

"Mrs. Judson, call Nellie. I think we have our next big case."


	3. Chapter 3

**Salt Lake City, Utah- Three Weeks Earlier**

Early in the morning the stagecoach approached the entrance to the 1890 Utah State Fair in Salt Lake City, carrying underneath it dozens of mice from Green River and other towns it had stopped at along the way. The Mousekewitz family rode together in the long train car-like seating area installed beneath the stagecoach, sans Tanya who was riding in a separate car with the school band and Mr. Ironside, a mole who taught at the town's schoolhouse. Fievel had asked if he could ride with his family instead, and had his school-issued violin in a case under his seat. Accompanying the Mousekewitz's were Olivia Flaversham, practically inseparable from Fievel as usual, her father Hiram, Tony Toponi and his daughter Aisling. Vartan Mookian rode in the other car with the band, he played the oboe, taking to the instrument rather easily due to it's similarity to the instrument he'd learned to play in the Ottoman Empire as a kid, the duduk. Vartan worked as the cashier at Mr. Flaversham's toy shop in exchange for room and board, taking a spare bedroom they had. He and Tanya had become rather close since the Ratigan affair.

"I'm so excited, I've never been to a fair before," Olivia said happily, sitting between Fievel and her father, "What are we gonna do first Fievel?"

"I wanna go on the rides," said Fievel, "Then we can have some strange foods they only sell at the fair, like deep fried grilled cheese sandwiches."

"Wow, I wonder what that tastes like," Olivia gave an excited smile, moving over so she could press her nose to the window and see if she could spot the rides from there as the stagecoach came to a stop.

"You'll get fat eating such rubbish,' Mama Mousekewitz warned from the seat in front of them.

"It's only one day out of the year," said Fievel.

"They're kids, Mrs. M." Tony added from the seat behind Fievel and Olivia, "They got metabolisms that could allow 'em to eat a tub of lard if they wanted, and not gain a gram. Let 'em enjoy it before they get like us, heh heh."

"It still doesn't mean zat zey should eat a tub of lard," she protested, "Children must eat healthy."

"I don't suppose they'll serve any haggis," Hiram said, missing his homeland.

"Prob'ly not on dis side of da Atlantic," said Tony.

"Fievel, you'll have to get prepared to play in ze band anyway," Papa reminded him, "You can have fun after Tanya's performance."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Fievel sighed.

Olivia looked disappointed. She knew Fievel was only playing the violin because his father wanted him to.

"Suppose I'll help set up our booth then, and stay until after Tanya's performance," said Olivia, looking to her father.

"Aye, we can use the help." said Hiram.

The doors to the stagecoach opened as it came to a stop. The mice in charge lowered little stairs so that the mice inside could reach the ground, carrying their various supplies. Papa and Hiram unloaded large crates from the baggage area on dollies with the help of the stagecoach attendants, and the supplies were taken to a booth near the stage where Tanya and the school band would be performing (all of which was situated beneath one of the main human buildings on the fairgrounds, far enough away from the human stage not to be drowned out). Fievel bid Olivia farewell, kissing the back of her hand before joining the other, not looking forward to the performance and hoping he didn't squeak his violin again this time. Over time more guests filtered through the State Fair, but one such figure was a tall, handsome young rat in a tuxedo and top hat, taking a seat in the front row before the stage and watching the school band tune their instruments with wrapped interest.

As the band prepared, Olivia helped her father and Fievel's Papa empty the crates at the booth they were managing, which a sign on top advertising both Flaversham Toys and Mousekewitz Violins. The items on sale there were of toy fiddler figurines which, when wound up in the back, played a song on their tiny violins. Olivia thought it was the most wonderful toy. Despite being twelve years old now, she still adored her father's toys, and was in charge of testing them out for him to see whether or not a child would be interested in them.

"Daddy, the band is tuning up their instruments!" Olivia exclaimed, looking for Fievel on the stage.

"I'm sure they'll sound grand," said Hiram.

"Do ye think I could go meet Fievel as soon as he comes outta backstage?" Olivia asked sweetly, wanting the fun to start as soon as he was done.

"I suppose, Mr. Mousekewitz and I have things under control here and Vartan will be helpin' as soon as the concert's done."

"Thank you daddy!" Olivia said, giving him a big hug and skipping toward the stage.

"Mistah M!" came the urgent voice of Tony Toponi, "Ya gotta see dis!"

"Ach, vhat is it Tony? Ve're trying to set up," Papa said as he set up the display at the booth.

Tony dragged his daughter along, who desperately wanted to go on the rides, holding a newspaper.

"Lookit," he said, holding up the Nation and World page of the _Salt Lake Times_.

"Oi vey…" Papa sighed, taking the paper from Tony and adjusting his spectacles.

The headline read "**Indian Maiden Wanted in Connection With 1887 New York Deaths Escapes Custody**".

Papa's eyes widened, and he read on.

'Authorities in the NYPD reported Friday that a young Indian girl, whose appearance over three years ago sparked rioting in the streets of Manhattan, was seen again wandering near Central Park and apprehended by police who recognized her by a turquoise necklace. After being brought in for questioning as to the whereabouts of her tribe, she apparently stole the gun from a police officer's holster, and used it to make her escape. Police warn mice to be on the lookout for her. She is described as an adolescent girl with black hair, green eyes, and reddish fur. She is to be considered armed and dangerous.

Calling herself Cholena, she appears to be a member of a long lost Indian tribe situated somewhere under New York's old pneumatic subway system, one which according to the CEOs of New York Cheese Factory, Toplofty, O'Bloat and Grasping, was plotting to invade New York from below and take back their lands. In 1887 the trio managed to incite their employees into a frenzied riot in order to capture Cholena and force her to tell them where her tribe was hiding, but she alluded the mob and fled underground. The late police Chief Eustace McBrusque, as well as a rat named Scuttlebutt who was an informant to the CEOs of the Cheese Factory, died during an investigation when the natives detonated a bomb and flooded an underground tunnel. Nothing more was heard from the tribe, and gradually tensions in New York eased, until last Friday. The New York Cheese Factory CEOs issued a statement to their workers yesterday morning cautioning them to be alert and to keep their families indoors. "An attack by Indians in downtown New York could be well underway", Grasping cautioned his many employees, "We don't know how many more bombs these savages may have."'

"Vhy, zis is terrible!" Papa exclaimed.

"Ya think it's da whole story?" Tony asked, "I know those three guys is bad news, I can't help but think they got their greedy little paws mixed up in dis somehow, outside of makin' radical statements and scarin' everyone. I'm not sure I believe everything in dis article, there's gotta be some catch."

"Ve can only hope Cholena is okay," Papa said, "I don't understand vhat she vas doing on ze surface. But, zhere's nothing ve can do from here…"

"Think we oughtta let Filly in on dis?" Tony asked.

"Maybe not. He'll just vant to take ze next train to New York and get himself mixed up in zis again. I'm through letting him risk his life after vhat happened last summer."

Hiram listened to them with a keen interest, but hadn't heard of any of the events described in the article. Meanwhile, the seats began to fill up more, and by the time the toy booth was fully set up, the performance was ready to begin.

* * *

Cat R. Waul scratched another tally mark on the wall of his cell with a claw, listening to the loathsome gibbering of his associate Chula in the next cell over. Fidget was being kept in a cage hanging from the ceiling, where he hung upside down a lot of the time.

"Breakfast time," said Sheriff Tiger as he opened the doors to the jail, situated beneath the human's jailhouse. He walked in carrying a bowl of steamed vegetables, sliding it through openings at the bottom of each door.

"We're gonna get malnutrition eating this trash!" yelled One-Eye from behind one door.

"Do be quiet, One-Eye," Waul groaned, "I've a headache."

"If I gotta eat one more stalk of broccoli I'm gonna hang myself with my own web," Chula threatened.

"Aw come on you guys, I'm surprised you haven't learned to love it yet," said Tiger jokingly.

"We ain't freaks of nature like you," One-Eye replied, "A cat can't live offa this stuff! We need meat!"

Tiger placed a bowl of dead crickets into Fidget's cage, as he was the most well-behaved and repentant of the prisoners. Tiger held hopes that once Fidget's sentence was up he wouldn't simply return to a life of crime.

"You won't be getting any meat out of Green River again," Tiger said, before leaving back to his office. There was a sharp thud from within the office, but the prisoners took no notice, for now.

A few moments passed before Waul took a look at his bowl of vegetables and sneered. What he wouldn't give for a nice, plump, juicy…

The deafening blast came suddenly and unexpectedly from the wall behind Waul's cot. He jumped to the ground for cover as rubble flew through the air. The explosion stirred up dust, and the prisoners coughed.

"What the devil was that?" Waul asked, getting up and coughing, looking at the gaping hole in the wall.

"Chinese fire crackers, heh heh…" came a thick Brooklyn accent, accompanied by the smell of cigar smoke.

A shadowy figure stepped through the dust cloud, donning a longcoat and a top hat, giving his identity away with the glint of a gold fang. It was someone Waul never expected to see again.

"Warren? Warren T. Rat? I say, is that you?" Waul asked, rubbing his eyes.

"You can drop da rat stuff," Warren said, puffing on his cigar, and leaning on a cane, "I'm a cat and I ain't ashamed of it."

Warren was flanked by two muscular cats, his old henchcats Jake and Aces, each carrying wooden clubs. The three looked older and more worn. Warren looked like someone had bitten a chunk off his ear, and had a scar running vertical above and below his right eye. Some of Warren's fur was tipped with gray. Waul could tell Hong Kong hadn't been kind to Warren.

Chula and One-Eye stepped out of their cells, into the light, while Fidget, still stuck in his cage, gripped the bars and looked on.

"Hehehehe! Never thought I'd be so glad to be in the sun!" Chula exclaimed, limping on seven legs.

"What's the big idea bustin' us out anyways?" asked One-Eye, "Surely ya ain't doing it for free."

"Observant lackey ya got there Waul," Warren said, blowing a smoke ring, "It's a long story, me makin' it back to da states. I've actually been back for a coupla months, been layin' low in San Francisco's Chinatown. But yeah, I ain't in dis two-bit little town as a tourist."

"Before you tell me why you're here," Waul said, dusting off his clothes, "I think I should let it be known that if you've broken me out of jail to join you on some sort of predictable evil revenge plot against Fievel and his little friends, I'd rather decline. You see after my recent experiences, ones which led to my imprisonment, I've found I'd much rather work alone from now on. I hope you understand, old fellow, it's nothing personal."

"Hoid about dat. Ratigan was an egomaniac, and it got him killed. But I was hoping ya might reconsider. See I think you'll find my new associates and I are better at bein' team players, not lettin our egos get in da way of business."

"Is that so?" Waul asked, not buying it, but wondering who these 'new associates' of his were. Waul figured Warren must be working with someone else, or he wouldn't be confident enough to show his face outside Chinatown.

"Hey, sin ren wuo," Warren said with a toothy grin.

"Pardon?"

"It means 'trust me' in Chinese," Warren explained, "So we got a deal or what?"

"I still remember how you ran your little empire in New York. If you have half the ego now that you had then, I'm afraid the two of us will not be able to cooperate."

"Have it your way then, Waul," Warren said, taking another drag on his cigar, "But remember what Shakespeare said. Opportunity knocks but…"

Jake's moves were swift. He lunged forward and swung his club at Waul's head, knocking the cat unconscious, his body falling into the dust in a heap.

"…once." Warren finished, exhaling smoke from his lungs, holding himself up with his cane.

Chula and One-Eye looked on in stunned silence as Jake gathered Waul's body up and slung him over his shoulder. Warren turned to them.

"You two comin' or what?" he asked.

"What about that sheriff?" One-Eye asked.

"Ah you mean Tiger? I had one of my other associates knock him out. Serves him right too, that treacherous sack of cat litter."

"Well uh, guess we're comin'," said Chula.

"Hey guys, what about me?" Fidget called out from his cage.

"Hmm, yeah, da bat…heard ya weren't exactly loyal to your old boss in the end. But I don't want ya snitchin' on me either, no one needs to know I'm back just yet. Aces, grab his cage. He's our prisoner now."

"Aw come on!" Fidget begged as Aces walked in, pulling up a stool so he could reach the cage, "I'm good fer it! As long as yer nicer than Ratigan was!"

But it was no use. Aces got the cage down, and the trio walked toward the train station, their next stop being New York City.


	4. Chapter 4

_ 'Dreams to Dream, in the dark of the night…"_

Tanya's soothing singing voice lulled the crowd against the backdrop of the school band, where she stood atop a stage made from a discarded butter box, dressed in a modest white dress, a stark contrast from her saloon singer outfit. A hushed silence seemed to fall over everyone within earshot at the fair.

"Ah think I can hear Fievel's violin, daddy," Olivia said, listening closely from their booth.

Fievel tried desperately not to mess up his sister's performance; however, he did squeak his violin in a few places. Tanya kept singing, and the audience didn't notice too blatantly. Tanya was doing a three song set that also concluded "Somewhere Out There" and "The Girl You Left Behind", the three songs she's written herself. With her father's help she'd even produced sheet music for the instrumental backup. Her hope now was that someone was listening who could lead her to the big time. This was Tanya's closing song, the one she wanted to leave audiences with as a lasting impression.

The audience stood and clapped when she was finished, and she curtsied before the curtains closed.

"Very good, children," said Mr. Ironside, though I will say our string section could use a bit of work, it sounds like we were well received."

"Way to go Fievel," complained the drummer, "Why don't you use a chalkboard as an instrument next time?"

Fievel sighed, "I gave it my best shot…"

He didn't feel like much of a violinist. It wasn't even really what he'd wanted in the first place.

Tanya on the other hand was euphoric after seeing such a positive response to her singing. She hummed happily on their way backstage, passing the next act, a school band from another small town. Tanya knew they wouldn't be able to compete. She skipped and danced down the hall, preparing to meet with Vartan once they were both out of here.

"My dear, your voice is simply extravagant," came a voice with a British accent from around the corner as she followed the other students.

"Huh?" Tanya looked around.

She felt a hand gently grab her arm as she walked forward, and she turned around, seeing a tall, slender young gentleman in a tuxedo and cape, with a prominent snout. He was a rat, Tanya only came up to his chest in height.

"Forgive my intrusion, Ms. Mousekewitz, but I just had to speak with you in person," he said politely, "My name is Quinn Ratbone, and I'm a playwright and director. I couldn't help but admire your performance."

"Wh-why, thank you," Tanya said with a blush, "It's nice to meet you Mr. Ratbone…"

"You may call me Quinn," Quinn replied, "You see, I came to this state fair to scout for talent. I was on my way from San Francisco to New York you see, and thought while I was here in Utah I may as well come to the fair. It's almost fate…"

Tanya's heart jumped into her throat. A talent scout? A playwright and director, traveling to big cities? It was almost as if fate had dropped all of her wishes into her lap at once.

"I don't know what to say…" she breathed, "Do you mean you want to recruit…me?"

Quinn chuckled, "Quite astute, Ms. Mousekewitz. You see, I've written a musical adaptation of 'The Legend of Mouse Hollow', and I'm looking for actors and actresses. I'm hoping to make it on Broadway, and I just got a call from someone to look at my script in New York. But, to have a lead actress already recruited, it would make the convincing so much easier."

"I know that play," Tanya said, remembering the time the school had put the play on in Green River. She'd played the lead female role in it, "Let me talk to my family first…I mean, for me to just up and leave for New York, it'd be pretty big…"

"I fully understand my dear," he said, "Why not introduce me? I'm sure your family will be fully supportive of your dreams, hm?"

"They will be," she said with a smile, "I mean I'm going to be seventeen next week, I'm almost an adult."

"And what an adulthood you have before you, my dear," Quinn said, "Let us meet your beloved family and we'll talk about this."

"Sure! Just follow me, my Papa's running a toy booth," Tanya said, leading the stranger toward the booth in a rush, excited and hoping her father would say yes.

Olivia met with Fievel as soon as he separated from his class, carrying his violin in a case.

"How'd ya do?" Olivia asked cheerfully.

"Terrible," Fievel said, his hat pulled down low and dragging his feet as he walked, "You didn't hear the squeaking?"

"No," Olivia walked alongside him, "I thought ye played just fine."

"If it wasn't for Tanya everyone would have noticed me," Fievel said grimly, "I know the teacher noticed me. I'm not like my Papa, I can't play this thing…"

Olivia patted Fievel's shoulder, "It ain't so bad, Filly. Hey, lift that hat up."

She started to lift Fievel's hat up from over his eyes, but got a new idea, and took it off, putting it on her head and giggling.

"Hey give that back!"

"How do I look, Fievel?" Olivia said with a grin, striking a pose with the hat and fluttering her eyelashes.

"Come on Olivia," Fievel grabbed for the hat but Olivia hopped out of the way, "Ye gotta catch meh," she said, darting off toward the carnival rides.

Fievel pursued her, the two of them running through crowds of mice, Fievel getting almost close enough to grab the hat off her head, but never close enough. Fievel hadn't been in the mood for games, but at least this was taking his mind off the concert, which was what Olivia had wanted. They kept running, Olivia looking back at Fievel as he chased her, until she ran into a paper boy and both of them fell, newspapers flying through the air.

"Olivia, are you okay?" Fievel asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.

"I am, but what about him?" Olivia said, helping the newsboy to his feet after she got to hers, and dusting him off, "I'm really sorry…"

"Why don't ya watch where you're going?" he griped, straightening his flat cap and brushing off his waistcoat, "Help me pick up all these newspapers, you clumsy brats!"

Fievel and Olivia picked up his newspapers, shaking the dust off of them and handing them over.

"If you really wanna make it up to me, why don't you buy a paper?" he suggested, "Ten cents apiece."

"Ah suppose it's the least we can do…" Olivia said in disappointment, fishing through her pockets. This meant one less ride they could go on. She found a dime and gave it to the mouse.

"Alright, here's your paper. Now scram!" he said, giving Olivia the newspaper.

Fievel took this chance to swipe his hat off Olivia's head and put it back on.

"I'm sorry 'bout that Fievel," she said, looking a bit sad, "Ah shoulda thought of some other way ta cheer ye up."

"It's okay," Fievel said, "I know you meant well. Sorry you had to spend money on a newspaper and not a ride. Newspapers are usually pretty boring too"

"I know," Olivia sighed, looking at the newspaper, "Lets look inside. Maybe there's comics."

The two of them walked side by side toward the rides, with the newspaper open, reading through its pages. It was mostly pretty boring. The front page was talking about some sort of flying machine being invented in France, the rest was mostly local news. But then they turned to the Nation and World section, and Fievel's eyes widened.

"Indian Maiden Wanted in Connection With 1887 New York Deaths Escapes Custody?!" Fievel exclaimed, "Oh my gosh…Cholena!"

"Who?" Olivia asked.

Fievel read on, becoming more and more horrified as he did, "What was she doing above ground? She probably didn't even realize we moved away!"

"Answer me question, Fievel," Olivia said, disliking being left out of the loop.

"I told you about that adventure I had with the underground Native Americans didn't I?"

"Yes ya did, though ye were never quite clear on that girl ya met…" Olivia said, feeling jealous over it all over again. Tony wouldn't tell her much about Cholena either, but when she asked Tanya about it, she'd said that Fievel might have had a wee crush on the girl at the time.

"Well that girl's in big trouble now," Fievel said with worry, "But that's way over in New York! Those bad guys who run the cheese factory might try to wipe out her whole tribe."

"That isn't good," said Olivia, who though feeling threatened by Cholena didn't want to see that happen, "But what can we do about it?"

"We've got to get to New York. I'll tell Tony and the others, I'm sure they'll take us with."

"I don't know Fievel," Olivia said, expressing doubt, "Me daddy said no more dangerous adventures."

"Our parents have to understand," Fievel said, taking Olivia's hand, "Come on!"

Just as Hiram and Bernard sold off another one of their violinist figurines, Tanya darted toward the booth, dragging Quinn along by the arm as she did so. She was so wrapped up in her future stardom that she'd walked right past Vartan on her way out, to his chagrin. She was excited, hopping up and down a little, speaking a mile a minute.

"Oh my gosh! Papa! You'll never ever ever believe who I just met he's a playwright and he goes to big cities to host performances and he said he's looking for new singers and actresses and he wants me to be in his plays and he's going to go to Broadway in New York and oh please please please let me go-"

"Enough Tanya! Take a breath vhy don't you?" Papa interjected, feeling bombarded by his daughter's enthusiasm, "So vhat's happening?"

Quinn politely took his hand back from Tanya and gave a bow, "I believe you're Miss Tanya's father, yes? You've quite a talented daughter."

"And vhat does zis matter to you, hm?" Papa asked, suspicious.

"Why, as your daughter was explaining, I was just scouting for talent for a play I was doing, and she seemed the perfect candidate."

"Oh please, Papa, this could be my big break!" Tanya pleaded, "And look, he's not a cat either! And he's not Ratigan!"

Papa massaged his temples, and looked over to Hiram, "Give it five more years, Hiram, you'll have one such as zis too."

"Ach, I do wish Olivia would stop growin' up already," Hiram replied.

"Tanya, zis is a very big decision to make, ve must discuss zis as a family before I say yes or no," he said.

"Perhaps a dinner is in order? So that I might give you the details," Quinn suggested, "Where do you live? I can be in Utah for one more night before I must move on to New York."

"Ve live in Green River, ze train stops zere," Papa said, "We'll discuss zis as a family first."

Quinn gave a grin, "That sounds excellent dear Mr. Mousekewitz, tonight then?"

"Tonight," Papa agreed.

"Thanks for giving him a chance," said Tanya, "I'll give you our address Mr. Quinn."

Vartan watched from a distance. His eyes narrowed; he didn't like the look of this man one bit. But he would remain silent for now, waiting for the rat to say his goodbyes to Tanya and walk off before asking her to explain that man.

No sooner had this situation cleared itself up, then Fievel and Olivia rushed toward the booth.

"Papa! There's big trouble in New York!" Fievel exclaimed.

He knew immediately that Fievel had seen the newspaper article, and he braced himself for an argument.

"I read ze story, Fievel, I know Cholena is in trouble. But she is vay in New York, ve are in Utah. Zere's nothing ve can do."

"But Papa, how could you say that?" Fievel's ears went down, "We've gotta do something to help!"

"Maybe she ran back to her tribe, she'll be fine," said Papa.

"I think they're gonna find her tribe and do something horrible," Fievel said, "We have to go to New York and find her."

"I'm not going to change my mind, Fievel," Papa said, "I know you'd mix Olivia up in zis too, and Mr. Flaversham doesn't need zat kind of stress any more than I do."

"Well put," Hiram added.

"It sounds real important though, daddy," Olivia said, "If'n we can't go, can't we send anybody there? Maybe Tony? Some other adult? Just to make sure everythin's okay?"

"Aw but I really wanna go," Fievel complained.

Papa looked to Tanya, as she watched Mr. Ratbone walk off, sighing to herself. She could very well be heading that way soon…

"Okay, wait and if ve decide to let Tanya go to New York to be a singer, maybe she can look into it," Papa said, "So long as SHE doesn't get herself into trouble. Ve von't be sending her alone."

"Tanya's going to New York?" Fievel asked, blinking in surprise.

"Maybe," Papa said, "Ve might discuss it. Mama doesn't know about it yet, ve'll discuss it over dinner vhen zat manager comes to speak to us."

"He's not a cat is he?" Fievel asked with suspicion.

"Of course not," Papa chuckled, "Now don't you two vorry about zis again, okay? Go, have fun."

"Well, alright," Fievel said, looking to Olivia, "I'm not sure I like the sound of this…"

"Fer now I guess we might as well go on a few rides and worry later," Olivia said, "We'll get to the bottom of this mystery one way or another, for I'm Flaversham of Main Street."

She took her magnifying glass out and held it over her eye with a grin. Fievel giggled.

"Yeah, I just hope my old friend's okay…but let's go on a ride I guess."

The two of them walked toward the rides, Fievel hoping to push the cloud of worry out of his mind, for now.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

Mrs. Judson offered Cholena a warm blanket and some hot cocoa as the young girl curled next to the fire on Basil's couch to warm herself after the long journey. Nellie sat beside Cholena and warmed the poor girl's hand, still in awe that Cholena had made it all the way to England, while Basil paced back and forth.

"I do not know where to start," Cholena said, sipping the hot cocoa and then eyeing it, having never tasted something quite like it, "It was like a nightmare…"

"Start from the beginning then," said Nellie, "Why did you leave your tribe?"

Cholena's ears went down and she turned her gaze to the fire. Basil took a seat beside Cholena on the couch to observe.

"I could no longer tolerate being trapped underground. I had seen so much with Fievel and his friends. The blue sky, the fresh air, the clear water, riding on the back of a bird. It wasn't fair to be trapped under the Earth like a prisoner. But father did not see it my way. He says we must wait beneath the Earth until the Upper World can be shared. Wait for what? The Europeans are never going to change their minds about us! N-not to offend you…"

"Don't worry dear," Basil said, "We certainly do not condone what the Natives of the Americas have been subjected to."

"It sounds to me like it was hard to go back once you'd tasted freedom," Nellie remarked, "That's perfectly natural. Why, to never have the sun shine on your fur…I can only imagine. Almost like living in England."

Basil gave a sarcastic eye roll, "Now go on, dear girl."

"One night when everyone was asleep, I escaped. I thought I would run away to Fievel's home. But when I got there, it looked like everything had been destroyed long ago. I…I fear he and his family are long dead."

Nellie shook her head, sipping some hot cocoa herself, "The neighborhood they'd been living in when you came to the surface was destroyed a few years back, true, but everyone survived. From there the Mousekewitz family moved to a barrel in an alley on Hester Street, and after that was destroyed in a cat attack, they moved out west. A town called Green River in Utah. Basil and I visited them a few months ago."

Cholena looked to Nellie, taking all of this information in. The realization that they were alive filled her with a mixture of relief and regret.

"I thought for sure that they were dead," Cholena said, wiping her eyes, "That makes me happy to know. The two of you were the only other Upper Worlders I knew. But I suppose that I fled in the wrong direction…I should have gone west instead of east."

"Now what did you flee from, exactly?" Basil asked.

"Well, after seeing nothing but ruins where Fievel's house had been, I panicked, weeping through the streets and wandering aimlessly. I was near Central Park when a police officer saw me. He blew his whistle, I tried to run but he caught me and handcuffed me. I was taken to their police station and put in a cell, while the policemen made a contact with someone."

"Contact, you say?" Basil asked.

"It was those vultures in charge of the cheese factory," Cholena said with bitterness.

"You mean…Grasping, O'Bloat, and Toplofty, right?" Nellie asked, "I did the follow-up article after that riot they started over you a couple years back."

"Those are the ones," Cholena answered, "The police told them they could use me to give the Cheese Factory owners a better reputation, to give them more control over their workers."

"Did they say anything else about their plans?" Basil asked.

"I did not understand everything they were saying," Cholena confessed, "Only that they had a new…shareholder? Someone who would use destroying my tribe as a way to gain power in New York."

"Shareholder, hmm…" Basil pondered this, "So someone's invested a lot of money in their company, and wants to use the destruction of your tribe as a catalyst for their entry into the world of politics."

"You sure Waul's still in jail?" Nellie asked Basil.

"This does sound like the kind of dastardly plan he'd concoct. But he wouldn't be the only one capable of such fiendishness."

"I don't know, but they tried to get me to tell where my tribe was. I did not tell them, even after they threatened me and yelled at me. When one cop turned their back, I got up, took their gun, and ran out. The only other Upper-Worlders besides the Mousekewitzes who I knew I could trust were the two of you. I still remembered the time when Hakan brought you back with him. It was with you two that I first began longing to see the Upper World."

"We didn't forget you either," said Nellie, "I still have that necklace I got from you somewhere. But Basil and I kept our promise not to tell a soul about your tribe."

"Thank you," Cholena said with a light smile.

"What happened next then?" Basil asked.

"I was lost in the city for a time, before coming upon a friendly dog; when I asked where I could find Basil, she pointed to the docks and told me to go to London. I ran until I got to the docks, and I stowed away aboard a ship."

"Quite a tale," said Basil, "Quite indeed. Are you certain there were no more details you may have missed?"

"I am new to the ways of the Upper World," said Cholena, "I told you what I remember, I do not know what all of it means though."

"What we do know is that it was right of you to get out of there," Basil said, "Be that as it may, Nellie and I are in London. This is happening in New York. I'm not sure what we ourselves can do about this."

"I suppose Basil's right," Nellie said, "If I were still in New York I'd be running a story on this. But now I'm between jobs…"

"You cannot help my people then?" Cholena asked sadly.

"Well lets not be hasty," Basil said, "Give me some time to think of the right course of action and we'll see."

"If only we could somehow find out who that shareholder is," Nellie said, "I'm afraid it's not so simple when there's an ocean in the way of the case. Though we could book a trip there."

"Except that we've some obligations here in England first," Basil interjected, "I'm due at the prison tomorrow investigating a jailbreak, and Nellie was going to accompany me."

Nellie blinked, "When was I going to be told about this?"

"Right before she dropped in on us."

"Who's the escapee?" Nellie asked.

"Two, in fact, both from separate prisons, but with the connection of being former lackeys to Ratigan."

"Oh great, that name again," Nellie sighed.

"A name with good marquee value if you're trying to sell a story to a newspaper."

"You're right…" Nellie said, realizing Basil's plan here, "But what do we do with Cholena?"

Cholena looked to Basil, hoping not to be forgotten.

"The girl can stay here for now," Basil said, "Leave it to me, we'll be investigating the happenings in New York shortly."

"How?"

"If we really have to, we can travel there," Basil said, though reluctant to the idea, "I need time to plan things out."

"I do not know how much time we have," Cholena said, blinking back tears, "They are out there searching for my tribe now."

Nellie squeezed her hand, "The fact that they didn't get any information from you is good. Your tribe is very secretive about it's hidden entrances, yes? No one's found them yet. Except Basil that is. And the main one beneath the subway was destroyed. They really tried looking for other entrances after that incident, but it always came up empty-handed, luckily."

"You are their best bet at finding the Lenape," Basil added, "If anything, they'll be looking for you. Fortunately you're out of reach."

"So I am safe, and so is my tribe, as long as I am here?" Cholena asked.

"Well, for the time being I should think. But, if they've realized you left New York, they might somehow discover you came here. Suppose that dog that pointed you in the direction of the docks tells the authorities, for instance."

Cholena got worried. The dog could betray her, she realized, "The Upper-World is such a cruel place…"

"Sadly, I can't refute that," Basil replied, "But keep a stiff upper-lip dear girl, you're in good hands now. Even if they do find out you're here, which is arguably unlikely, though not impossible. You have Nellie and I to protect you."

"Thank you," Cholena said, "I will never forget your kindness."

"Right, just say the word and Mrs. Judson will show you to your room," Basil said.

Basil got up and moved to his favorite chair, picking up his violin, needing to ponder just what course of action needed to be taken with Cholena. Cholena chose to sit and finish her hot cocoa for a while, as Nellie went to sit in the chair across from Basil.

"Well, at least that killed my bad mood over the interview this morning," Nellie remarked, "We're seeing quite a bit of action now, aren't we?"

"Yes, yes we are," Basil said, "I shall have to see what Dawson thinks of all this. Perhaps the four of us will need to start making travel arrangements, after tomorrow."

As the discussion continued, none were aware of the fluffy ear pressed against the drape-covered window outside. A small poodle disguised in a hooded cloak cackled softly to herself.

"Mission accomplished, the Indian brat is going to lead them back to America," she said to herself in a shrill French accent, "Warren and ze boss will be most pleased. Finally, Miss Nellie Brrrrie, my vindication is at hand."


	6. Chapter 6

**Green River, Utah- Three Weeks Earlier**

When disembarking the train from Salt Lake City, the mice of Green River were met with shocking news. Cat R. Waul and his gang had escaped prison. A crowd immediately gathered around the jailhouse, kept at bay by Tiger and Wylie Burp. Tiger had a bandage over his forehead where he'd been hit.

"Stand back everyone," Wylie said, "We're searching for clues."

The crowd murmured and talked amongst themselves. What would Waul being free mean? He surely wasn't going to fool the mice of Green River a third time, after all. What was his plan?

"I'm sure we can figure it out," Olivia said, holding Fievel's hand as the two of them beheld the crime scene, "We jus' got ta keep our eyes open fer clues. Interview anyone still in town at the time."

Fievel gave a nod, "We can use your magnifying glass to look for footprints or fur."

Olivia looked around, and whispered into Fievel's ear, "Ya don't think it was…you know who…do ye?"

Fievel turned to her, she wore a worried look, biting her lower lip.

"Ratigan's dead Olivia, this time for real," Fievel reassured her, "He got blown up to smithereens."

"But the evidence points ta someone breakin' Waul free from the outside, don't it?"

"And one of their helpers went inside to knock out Tiger," said Fievel, "I don't think there's any way it could have been Ratigan. Who knows how many other bad guys Waul must know?"

Fievel's mother grabbed his shoulder.

"Come on home, little sheriff, ve're having dinner," she said.

"But mooom," Fievel complained.

"Ve have a guest, or don't you remember?"

Fievel sighed and looked to Olivia, "We'll talk more tonight?"

Olivia nodded, "Yes. I'll go see what me father's up to."

Olivia gave Fievel a peck on the lips, something that still managed to make him quite bashful, and they parted ways, Fievel following his family back home. There Tanya was already in the living room when Fievel got in, pacing back and forth, having forgotten to change or take off her makeup as she wanted to continue to look good enough to impress their guest Quinn Ratbone when he arrived.

"Tanya, did you know-" Fievel began.

"Waul escaped? Yes, I know, but I can't worry about that right now," Tanya said, cutting him off and speaking frantically, "I need to worry about what I'm going to do and say when Quinn gets here. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Fievel. Once. In a lifetime."

"But aren't you worried?" Fievel asked.

"Waul's never going to get me to trust him again," said Tanya, "He's probably long gone by now, he knows he can't fool Green River again. Let the authorities deal with him, he's not our problem."

Fievel hated when Tanya got dismissive whenever something really serious was going on. But it was career first with her. With the Cholena problem happening in New York and then this, he didn't know what to think.

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh my gosh, it's him! It's him!" Tanya said, pushing Fievel aside.

"Hey!" Fievel exclaimed angrily.

Tanya rushed to the door, fixing her hair quickly before opening it.

"Oh, Quinn! Glad you found our house alright."

"Oh it was no problem," Quinn said, taking his top hat off, "I just looked for the house with the big 'Mousekewitz Violins' sign on top."

Fievel gave a suspicious glare to this strange rat. Of course, his Papa always told him not to judge a book by its cover and that not all rats are bad, but there was just something he didn't like about Quinn Ratbone. But, maybe it was just because of what had happened when Tanya sought stardom from Cat R. Waul and then Ratigan.

"Oh, he is here!" said Mama, peeking in from the kitchen, "Make yourself at home, dinner is almost ready."

"But of course, Mrs. Mousekewitz. You're too kind."

"I'll take your hat and coat," said Tanya, and Mr. Ratbone put them in Tanya's arms. She hung them up on a coat rack, and he had a seat, "Papa's carving another violin in his workshop."

The four year old Yasha approached the stranger, wearing a pink dress with a bow in her hair.

"Who are you?" she asked cutely.

"Ah, why my name is Quinn Ratbone," he said with a grin, shaking her small hand, "Aren't you the cute one? What's your name?"

"My name's Yasha, an' I'm gonna be five years old next week!"

"Five? Impressive! Why, you look very smart for a five year old," Quinn said, patting her head.

Fievel rolled his eyes and tapped his foot, not buying his act.

"Oh and who's this strapping young lad?" Quinn asked, "Strong silent type I take it?"

"My name's Fievel," he answered, "I just hope you have the best intentions with my big sister."

"Fievel!" Tanya exclaimed in shock, "What are you getting at? Don't mind him Quinn, be can be kind of bratty sometimes…"

"It's just that the last two guys who offered my sister a job as a singer turned out to be evil," Fievel said.

"A protective little brother," Quinn chuckled, "Ah, how adorable. I assure you that I've only the best intentions. I plan on making your sister a big star, that is, with her parents' blessing of course."

"You better be telling the truth," Fievel said.

"Fievel has the best intentions too," Tanya said, blushing a bit in embarrassment, "He's just worried because, well, I got mixed up with some bad people a couple times…"

"Understood," said Quinn, "Well we'll discuss this more with your parents, and I'll offer them my assurance that I am in fact what I say I am."

Mama brought a large bowl of cheese casserole to the table, "Dinner is ready everyone! Yasha, go get Papa for me vill you?"

"Yes Mama," Yasha said, excited to be given a job.

Soon enough, the Mousekewitz family was seated at the table and dinner was served.

"I say, this casserole is the best I've had in years," Quinn said.

"Vhy thank you," Mama said, "Vell, let's talk business hmm? You vant my daughter to leave vith you to New York?"

"I was scouting for talent at the fair, you see, and her wonderful singing voice is just what I've been searching the country for. I feel like I need look no further. My Broadway production of The Legend of Mouse Hollow is bound for success with her on board."

"I don't quite like ze idea of her going alone all zat vay," Papa said, "Ve lived in New York before you know, it isn't very safe."

"Really Papa?" Tanya asked in annoyance, believing she could take care of herself, before getting an idea, "Well, maybe Vartan can come with."

"Zat boy next door? Pah, he's your age! A youngster!" Papa said dismissively.

"But he's street smart," Tanya argued, "He knows New York well because he was an orphan on the streets there."

"He barely speaks English," Papa contended, "Ve need someone older and wiser…but, your mother and I have a house to keep and jobs to do here."

"Your daughter will be in fine hands either way, I assure you, or my name isn't Quinn Ratbone," Quinn said with a grin that struck Fievel as devious.

"They wouldn't have to live with me permanently, would they?" Tanya asked.

"No, ve just need someone to stay vith you for a veek or so, make sure zis isn't some sort of sham."

Quinn looked offended, but said nothing.

"Maybe I could talk Tony into coming," said Tanya, "I mean I know he has that bartending job, a daughter to look after and his wife is the mayor now, but maybe he could work something out with Miss Kitty."

"Now Tony is someone I can trust," said Papa, "_If _you can get him to agree. He's a busy man."

"Zat sounds reasonable to me too," said Mama, "Either you get a responsible adult to go vith you to New York and help you get settled, or no deal."

"Why then it's settled," Quinn said, "Tanya, you just have a word with this Tony fellow and then take the train out of here to New York tomorrow evening. I unfortunately need to leave tonight, but I can meet you at the station in New York. I'll even pay for your tickets. Both yours and Tony's. I'll tell the mouse at the ticket booth who it's reserved for so they know."

"Um…could Vartan come too?" Tanya asked, "I know my parents didn't want it to be him alone but…I guess I'd feel safer with both him and Tony."

"Perhaps he can visit you later, hm?" Quinn said after hesitating a moment, "I'm being quite generous as is, wouldn't you say? I may be wealthy but I can spare very little expense when I have a Broadway show to organize."

"Oh…I understand," Tanya said, looking down at her plate with her ears down. She was beginning to realize her move to New York could spell the end for her friendship with Vartan, and what it might have eventually turned into.

After discussing how much Tanya would be paid and what her living arrangements would be (Quinn Ratbone promising to reserve a nice apartment for her on Hester Street), dinner was finished, and Mr. Ratbone said his farewells to the Mousekewitz's before making his exit. Fievel then snuck back into his room, closed his door and opened the window, hopping through it and sneaking over to the window of Olivia's room next door. He tapped on the glass. Within a few moments, Olivia opened the window.

"What's the news, Fievel?" she asked. This had become a part of their nightly routine. A last few words to one another in secret before bedtime.

"Tanya's going to New York tomorrow evening."

"Really? With that rat?" Olivia was surprised Fievel's parents agreed to let Tanya leave so soon.

Fievel nodded, "I don't like him. There's something sneaky about him. My parents wanted her to go with an adult so she's thinking about asking Tony."

"What do ye wanna do about it?" Olivia asked him.

Fievel looked both ways to make sure they weren't being spied on, and whispered, "I say we stow away on the train to New York tomorrow."

"Stow away?" Olivia was shocked, "But Fievel, what about me daddy? I canno' do a thing like that. He'd be so worried."

"You could write him a letter, and leave it on your bed," Fievel suggested, "Maybe say Tony decided to take us with at the last minute when we begged him to take us too. I think that's what I'm gonna do."

"When we get home Tony isn't gonna go along with that story," Olivia warned.

"We'll sort that out when the time comes. I wanna keep an eye on my sister and make sure this Ratbone guy isn't bad news, and I wanna find Cholena too," Fievel urged.

"Oh, her again," Olivia gave him a jealous eye.

"She's in trouble, Olivia, her whole tribe is, we gotta do something."

"What about investigatin' Waul's jailbreak?"

"I think Tiger and Wiley have that covered," said Fievel, "This is more important. It might even have something to do with what's going on in New York, we don't know."

"And what about our school?"

"We'll only miss a week," said Fievel, "Or…maybe more, but hopefully just a week. We'll go back when Tony does. And he'll help us break it to your Papa."

"I just can't betray me daddy like that," Olivia said, folding her arms, "And that's that."

Fievel looked down and gave a small sigh, "I guess if you really don't wanna, I could go by myself."

"By yerself? But Fievel, I dunno if'n I could stand it. I'd be so worried about ye."

"Then write a letter to make your Papa think Tony took us with. I think Tony will play along, though he might be a little mad at first. I'll take the heat for it if your Papa gets mad at us."

"I don't want me daddy mad at you," Olivia said, putting her hand over his, "It means a lot to me to have his approval in bein' boyfriend and girlfriend with you. He'd be really upset if I did this with you. M-maybe ye should go on yer own."

Fievel looked downtrodden by this, his ears going down. He really wanted Olivia to come with him on this adventure. But, he knew he couldn't force her to do it.

"It'll be alright Olivia, if I go by myself. I'll stay safe." Fievel said, "But I'm gonna miss you."

Fievel gazed up at her with a sad expression. Olivia stared into his eyes, and felt fear and sadness well up in her chest too when she thought about saying goodbye to him as he snuck onto the train. Inside she was torn on the issue. It was a choice between her father and her boyfriend. She needed to choose wisely. But she'd come to love the odd, mischievous little boy next door since moving to Green River. The more she thought about it, she couldn't bear not knowing if he was in danger…or falling for that Indian maiden she knew he used to have a crush on.

"Yer goin' no matter what, aren't you?" Olivia asked.

"Pretty much, I guess," Fievel said.

"Filly…I canno' let ye go alone. I'm…I'm gonna come with," Olivia said, finally making up her mind, but at the same time regretting it too.

* * *

Quinn Ratbone boarded the caboose of the train as night fell, jumping to the edge and pulling himself aboard. He was stowing away. He'd gone out of his way and purchased two tickets for Tanya and that Tony fellow, or whoever she was going to bring; that was expensive enough.

The door to the caboose opened as Quinn approached, cigar smoke wafting from inside.

"Ah, 'Ratbone'. How'd it go wit' the Mousekewitz's?" came the thick Brooklyn accent. Warren T. stood at the doorway, towering over Quinn Ratbone.

"Tanya's coming to New York tomorrow. Her parents insisted on her bringing an adult."

"Ah, no matter," said Warren, blowing a smoke ring and closing the door behind them, "Who might I ask is the candidate?"

"Someone named Tony," Ratbone said, as the two of them walked further into the train car.

"I think I remember that jerk, the guy who shot my fake nose off in front of everybody. Well, he's easily dealt with. He'll need more than a slingshot to defeat us now."

"And that brat Fievel will almost certainly try to intervene in some way, with that little pest Olivia Flaversham," Quinn remarked.

"That's the idea, ain't it?" Warren chuckled, "I always said I'd get revenge on that Mousekewitz kid. He's what ruined me…"

Inside the train car Waul and Warren's thugs were playing poker atop a box, and Waul himself was tied to a wooden post, with Fidget's cage hanging from the rafters. Waul had bandages wrapped around his head where he was hit.

"So this is their despicable ringleader," Waul remarked as Quinn entered, seeing him for the first time.

"I really wished you'd be more cooperative, Waul," said Quinn with a sigh, "I thought someone of your caliber would be perfect for our little operation, but, well, maybe we can change your mind."

"How so?"

"Simple. We have your diva now." Quinn said.

"My what? Do you mean Tanya?" Waul reacted in surprise, "You do, don't you? What does she have to do with whatever your scheme is?"

"Initially, something to make you more cooperative," Ratbone answered, "Also she may prove useful as a bargaining chip or hostage. Though I do have a legitimate appreciation for the performing arts. Yes, I think I'll enjoy her company a great deal. And lucky for me, I'm closer to her species…"

"Bloody hell," Waul sighed, "Everyone must know my weakness for her voice by now…fine, perhaps I will play along, as long as there's something for me to gain in this."

"Oh there is, if you play nice," said Ratbone, "Once we're done, Warren will have his empire in New York back, my colleague Madame Mousey will rule Central Park and be free of her owner, our friends in charge of the cheese factory will be rid of their union problems, and you my friend will rule the West. If…you don't backstab me the way you did Ratigan."

"And you? What will you be getting out of this?" Waul asked.

"Why, I will eventually become mayor of New York City of course. Then perhaps governor, and hopefully president one day."

"You know, there's something awfully familiar about this," Fidget remarked.

"There should be, Fidget," Quinn Ratbone said, glaring up at the bat's cage, "_Especially_ to you."

He turned to the others.

"Now, will someone please untie Mr. Waul. But do keep him under close watch."

Fidget saw in Quinn Ratbone something that eerily, uncannily reminded him of Ratigan in that moment. He couldn't explain it. It was almost as if Ratigan were back.


End file.
